"That's not me." Victor still couldn't believe what he just saw.
"Dude, we know that." Dean rolled his eyes and turned the TV off. "That son of a bitch, looks like you pissed him off."
Sam made a huffing noise and propped himself up on his elbows.
"That's usually Dean's part." He squeaked out. "Am I the only one who gets a déjà vu feeling from all this?"
"Yeah, reminds me of that shifter from St. Louis." Dean nodded. "But I think it's just what shapeshifters do for fun."
Victor stared at the now black screen of the TV and tried to wrap his mind around what he had seen. The shifter had killed three people and for what? The money it got out of it? Victor didn't think so. The shifter had figured out a more smooth way to get money. No, this was a show just for Victor. And he had no clue what he had done to piss the shifter off that royally. Sam had beaten him up real good and Dean had shot him with silver but no, it was after Victor. Okay, he had kinda emptied a whole clip into its chest. It didn't kill it but it had to hurt.
And now that had cost three lives. Three innocent people were dead just because that thing had a personal vendetta with Victor.
With some delay this lead to another disturbing though. Everybody would now believe Victor was a cold-blooded killer. A man who had killed three people for a hand full of cash.
What would his friends at the FBI think? His ex-partner? Oh god, what if his family saw any of this? He could never explain that a creature did this and not him.
St. Louis, he thought and glanced at Dean, it's exactly what had happened to Dean in St. Louis. But unlike him Dean's family and his friends knew him and what he did so they'd never assumed that he actually was the monster who did those terrible things.
Everybody Victor knew – except the persons in this room – would think of him as a murderer and there were probably people who would claim that they had seen it coming.
Somebody patted his arm and when Victor glanced down he saw Gerry's hand on his forearm squeezing it in a reassuring way.
"What …" Victor had to clear his throat and then took a deep breath. They still had a job to do. "What are we doing now?"
"We aren't doing anything." Dean said and Victor's heart sank. "You are keeping our princess company." He nodded towards Sam and glared at his brother till he flopped back down into the pillow. "While Gerry and I do the legwork."
Victor opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by Dean. "The police is looking for you and this isn't exactly New York where you can hide in the mass. Here everybody knows everybody, they'll be suspicious enough towards strangers without seeing the supposed to be killer around."
Victor wanted to argue but Dean had a point. Going out meant more trouble than it was worth it. He didn't have to like it, though.
That settled Dean and Gerry got ready to leave. Victor and Sam watched them with the same disappointed expression.
With them gone Victor sat alone at the table and stared at the leftovers from their breakfast. From his place in bed Sam was silent for long minutes and Victor already thought he had fallen asleep.
"We'll find this sucker and then we'll leave all this behind." Sam suddenly said. Lost in his thought Victor just answered with a confused "huh?".
"The shifter." Sam turned to his side so he could face Victor with his one and a half eyes. "Dean and Gerry will find something to pin him down and then we kill him." He smiled but it looked forced. "In three days we'll have half the country between us and this town."
Maybe it was because Sam was used to being wanted. Victor couldn't say that it reassured him in the slightest to put a few borders between him and the crime scene.
And before that they still had a shifter to deal with, though. Who knew what he was up to?
"How did you know that it wasn't Dean?" Victor changed the subject. Now Sam's smile reached his eyes.
"Shifters are good, really good, but they are not perfect." Sam led himself fall back and looked at the ceiling.
"I haven't noticed anything." Victor had to admit. "And when you two fought, I had no idea who to shoot."
Now Sam chuckled but it was short lived and ended with a hiss and probing fingers at his fat lip.
"Need something for the pain?"
"Nah, I'm good." Sam yawned and shifted into a comfortable position. "Dean dosed me up really good."
"Yeah, I noticed him mothering you." A smile ghosted over his lips and for a second the voice screaming in panic in his head was silent.
"That's why I knew it wasn't him." Sam said but he sounded already half asleep. "That thing just felt wrong."
Victor nodded. He had been on the road with the Winchesters for a few month now and he got it. He probably would never get them but he got the closeness between the brothers.
Sam drifted off but every time Victor thought he had fallen asleep he shifted, more or less opened his eyes and glanced around till he settled back again.
He never said anything and it took Victor a while till he noticed what was wrong. And he wanted to smack his head when he finally realized what the problem was.
"I think I lay down as well." He said and stood up. Instantly Sam's eyes were on him and seeing the bruised and swollen face Victor just wanted to let the boy rest. And he wouldn't rest with Victor around. With Dean in the room it would not be a problem, it would probably help Sam to relax, but with Victor around he couldn't let go.
Holding his phone up Victor said: "Call if you need something."
"Sure." Sam mumbled and Victor slipped out of the room.
With a sigh Victor let himself in his own room. Gerry's stuff lay all around and it somewhat grounded him, gave him the feeling of not being alone. However, resting or even sleeping was impossible for him at the moment.
Pacing up and down he waited to hear from Dean and Gerry.
He wanted to stop that shifter. Now. Before it could kill again. With his face. With his hands.
Did it have Victor's fingerprints? It hadn't used gloves but that would have missed the point, wouldn't it? Could the shifter imitate his DNA? Not that it mattered, the footage from the gas station alone would break Victor's neck in any court.
He couldn't go back, Victor realized. Even if he wanted to, there was no way back to his old life now. Not any more.
Suddenly his legs gave out and he had to sit down on his bed. Staring at his hands dangling lifeless between his knees he tried to get the pictures out of his mind. The bad quality footage showing him with a gun and a knife and three people who had died pleading for mercy with something that wore his face. The last part hadn't been on TV but Victor had no trouble picturing it in his head.
He knew it was a bad idea but he couldn't stand the thought of her being told by some police officer or worse a reporter. So he dealt a familiar number and listened to the ringing not sure what to say to her.
"Hello?" Came the warm voice out of the speaker and Victor blinked against the tears.
"Mom?" His voice was hoarse. "It's me."
He wanted to say more but his brain didn't supply the right words and his tongue was too useless right now to do anything.
"Vic, is that you?" She asked but she already knew, of course she knew it was him. "Where have you been? What happened?" Now she was at the edge of tears as well and for long seconds they both tried to control their emotions.
"Sorry I didn't call." Victor finally said.
"Boy, you know how long it's been?" She had found her voice as well. "Where are you? Quitting the FBI and then just disappearing into the night, you have any idea what I went through? Not knowing where you were, what you did. I didn't even know if you were still alive."
Victor let her tirade wash over him. It was somewhat comforting, this mixture of worry and love and no dessert for you, young man only his mother could provide.
After the first burst of emotions she calmed down and ended with: "Hey, baby. Are you alright?"
Victor washed a hand down his face. Was he alright? Definitely not. Was he going to tell her that? Also a no. Which left him with the question of what to tell her. Thinking about that he had to bite his tongue to stifle the chuckle building up in his chest.
"I'm fine." He repeated the universal Winchester answer to this kind of question. Maybe he had been around the brothers for too long.
"When are you coming home?" She sounded like she wanted to hug him, wanted to stroke his head and whisper soothing words into his ear and damn, he needed that right now. But all he got was a crappy phone call.
"I'm not sure." He answered because he just couldn't tell her never. "There is this thing I've to do. I can't tell you more but it's important." And now he sounded like a cheap James Bond wannabe.
"Vic, baby. What have you gotten yourself into?" She said with the I'm here for you no matter what clearly hidden in her words.
"Something happened." Victor started and took a deep breath. He wasn't sure if he could ever breathe again. "People died and it looks …" He had to break up. How do you tell your mother that she'll see hard proof that her son is a killer?
"It looks like I did it." There, he'd said it. With his eyes closed he waited for her reaction.
"Oh, baby." And now he really wanted her to hold him.
"I'm not sure if I can sort this out." Most certainly not. "But I wanted to be the one to tell you. I wanted to tell you that I didn't do that. It wasn't me. It looks like it was but it wasn't. I would never … you know that, right? I could never just kill somebody." He was babbling, he knew that, but he couldn't help it.
"Of course I know." She immediately backed him up. "Please, come home, we can do this together."
"I wish I could do that." He really wished but that would only end with him in prison and monsters running free to kill more innocent people and that wasn't an option.
"I have to go now." Time to end the call or he would run back to her. "I'm not sure if you'll hear from me any time soon." He wiped the tears from his face. "I love you, Mom."
"I love you too, baby."
And before she could say another word Victor ended the call. He threw the phone on the bed and he should probably get rid of it as soon as possible but now his mind was swirling.
Pacing up and down he was ready to climb the walls. He needed something to do. But there was only this crappy room and out there a shifter on the loose wearing his face.
Most of the weapons were in the trunk of the Impala but Victor had his gun and two silver knives with him. At least he could keep his hands busy by cleaning the gun and sharpen the knives. Not that it was really needed at the moment, but whatever. And he would make sure to have the right bullets.
With his hands doing the familiar dance his mind calmed down a bit. They would get the shifter. Dean and Gerry would find a lead and then they would kill that bastard.
Suddenly the door burst open.
